Chapter 3: Steam and Submission
The cool marble floor tiles shocked the soles of Shuying’s feet as Yang Yang set her down just inside the vast bathroom. Steam was already beginning to fog the massive glass walls of the shower enclosure, the hiss of water a low roar. The air hung thick with the expensive, clean scent of cedar and bergamot soap, a stark contrast to the musky intimacy clinging to their skin from the bedroom.
He reached past her, his arm brushing her hip, to twist the sleek chrome handle. Hotter. The spray intensified, billowing steam instantly thickening. His gaze, dark and intense, never left hers. There was no playful invitation, only the same raw hunger that had propelled them from the living room. A silent understanding passed between them, born of countless nights just like this – seeking solace, seeking obliteration, in the heat and the water and each other.
He stepped into the downpour first, the water plastering his dark hair to his forehead, streaming in rivulets down the defined planes of his chest and stomach. Then his hands were on her waist, pulling her in under the scalding torrent. She gasped as the near-scalding water hit her flushed skin, a sharp counterpoint to the cool air.
He didn’t give her time to adjust. His hands slid firmly down her slick back, over the curve of her ass, gripping firmly. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. Her back met the cool, smooth tiles with a soft thud, a jolt against the heat of the water and his body pressed flush against hers. The steam swirled thickly, blurring the edges of the room, cocooning them.
His mouth crashed onto hers, a hot, wet claiming that tasted of exhaustion and desire. His cock, already hard again, pressed insistently against her lower belly, trapped between their bodies. One hand remained under her ass, holding her weight effortlessly against the wall. The other slid up her side, rough fingertips tracing her ribs before closing possessively over her breast, thumb scraping over her taut nipple. She cried out into his mouth, arching into the touch, the rough pad of his thumb sending electric shocks straight to her core.
"Fuck, you feel good," he growled against her lips, his voice rough, thickened by the steam and need. He pulled back slightly, his eyes raking down her body, water sluicing over her skin, emphasizing every curve. His gaze was molten, possessive. "Wanted to taste you all fucking day. Every time you delivered that line in the boardroom scene... fuck, Shuying." His thumb pressed harder on her nipple, twisting gently, making her gasp and writhe against him.
He lowered his head, his mouth hot and demanding on her throat, sucking a mark high on her collarbone. She tipped her head back against the tile, baring more of her neck, a low moan escaping her. His hand left her breast, sliding down her slick stomach, fingers trailing through the wet curls between her legs. He didn't tease. His middle finger slid straight into her slick heat, deep and sure. Her inner muscles clenched around him instantly.
"Christ, you're soaked," he breathed, his voice thick with awe and lust. He added a second finger, stretching her, curling them deliberately. "Wet just for me? Even after I fucked you stupid on the bed?"
"Yes," she gasped, her hips rocking against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction. Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Always... fuck... Yang..."
The sound of her desperate plea, his name dragged from her like that, snapped the last thread of his control. He withdrew his fingers, earning a whimper of protest. His hands tightened on her ass, shifting her position slightly, spreading her wider against the cool tile. Then he dropped.
He sank to his knees on the wet shower floor, water cascading over his broad shoulders. His hands gripped the backs of her thighs, pulling them wider apart, forcing her open. His face was level with her glistening cunt.
He didn't hesitate. Didn't kiss. Didn't tease. He buried his face between her legs with a groan that vibrated through her entire body. His tongue was broad, hot, demanding. He licked her from the tight furl of her asshole straight up through her dripping slit to her swollen clit in one long, filthy stroke.
"FUCK!" The curse ripped from Shuying, sharp and loud, echoing off the tiles. Her head slammed back against the wall. His tongue was relentless. Flat, broad strokes over her pussy lips, gathering her wetness. Then focused, pointed flicks and circles right on the hypersensitive bundle of nerves. Rough. Insistent. Perfect. He used the flat of his tongue, the tip, the edge – every part of it to assault her with sensation.
He shoved his tongue inside her, fucking her with it, deep and rhythmic, mimicking the thrust of his cock. Then back to her clit, sucking it hard into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh so lightly it was torture. He growled against her, the vibration adding another layer of intense, almost unbearable pleasure.
"Oh God! Oh fuck, Yang! Right there! Don't stop!" Her words were incoherent gasps, punctuated by sharp cries. Her fingers were tangled painfully in his wet hair, pulling, holding his face exactly where she needed it. Her hips bucked wildly against his mouth, seeking more contact, deeper pressure. Steam choked the air, water pounded down, and all she could feel was the relentless, devastating heat of his tongue and lips on her most intimate flesh.
He was relentless. He feasted on her like a man starving. Lapping at her juices, sucking her clit until she felt swollen and throbbing, plunging his tongue deep inside her again. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass cheeks, spreading her even wider, giving him deeper access. He grunted against her, the sounds muffled, primal, driving her higher.
She could feel the coil tightening deep in her belly, an unbearable pressure building with every rough stroke of his tongue, every hungry suck. Her legs trembled violently. Her breath came in ragged, tearful gasps. "I'm... Yang... I'm gonna... oh fuck! FUCK!" The warning was ripped from her, raw and desperate.
He only intensified his assault, his tongue flicking her clit rapidly, mercilessly, while two fingers from one hand slid back inside her, curling upwards, finding that spot deep inside. The dual assault was too much. The coil snapped.
Her orgasm hit her like a physical blow. A silent scream locked in her throat as her body bowed off the tiled wall, held only by his grip on her thighs and the pressure of his face between her legs. Intense, pulsing waves of pleasure radiated outwards from her core, washing through her in shuddering, uncontrollable spasms. Her cunt clenched rhythmically around his buried fingers, milking them. She felt like she was shattering, dissolving under the scalding water and the relentless pressure of his mouth.
He rode her through it, his tongue gentling slightly but not stopping, lapping at her through the rippling contractions, drawing out every last shuddering aftershock. Only when her body finally went limp, boneless against the tiles, her ragged breathing the only sound besides the water, did he slowly pull away.
He looked up at her from his knees. Water streamed down his face, plastering his hair flat. His lips and chin glistened with her wetness. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, held a look of fierce satisfaction, a possessive pride that sent a fresh, tired throb through her spent body. He rose slowly, his own arousal jutting thick and hard against his stomach.
He stepped back into the full force of the spray, pulling her with him, pressing her back against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her wet skin. They stood like that for long moments, letting the water sluice over them, washing away sweat and the evidence of his tongue, leaving only the heat and the tremors still echoing through her muscles. The steam wrapped them in a private, sound-dampening blanket. The city outside the fogged glass was a distant, muted glow.
"You taste fucking divine," he murmured against her skin, his voice a low rumble she felt in her bones. His hand drifted down, fingers splaying possessively over her lower belly, just above where the aftershocks still hummed.
She leaned her head back against his shoulder, utterly spent, her body humming with residual pleasure and deep fatigue. "We should... get clean," she managed, the words thick and slow.
His hand slid lower, fingertips brushing through her wet curls, making her gasp softly. "In a minute," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate growl, his fingers tracing her slick, sensitive folds with deliberate slowness. The promise in his touch, the renewed hardness pressing against the small of her back, was unmistakable. The shower wasn't done with them yet. Outside, the city buzzed on, oblivious, but the phone, for now, stayed silent.